Women - Charles Bukowski [157]
27
We drank all day and that night I tried again to make love to Mindy. I was astounded and dismayed to find she had a large pussy. An extra large pussy. I hadn’t noticed it the night before. That was a tragedy. Woman’s greatest sin. I worked and I worked. Mindy lay there as if she was enjoying it. I hoped to god she was. I began to sweat. My back ached. I was dizzy, sick. Her pussy seemed to get larger. I couldn’t feel anything. It was like trying to fuck a large, loose paper bag. I was just barely touching the sides of her cunt. It was agony, it was relentless work without a reward. I felt damned. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I desperately wanted to come. It wasn’t just the drinking. I performed better than most when drinking. I heard my heart. I felt my heart. I felt it in my chest. I felt it in my throat. I felt it in my head. I couldn’t bear it. I rolled off with a gasp.
“Sorry, Mindy, Jesus Christ, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, Hank,” she said.
I rolled over on my stomach. I stank with sweat. I got up and poured two drinks. We sat upright in bed and drank the drinks, side by side. I couldn’t understand how I had managed to come the first time. We had a problem. All that beauty, all that gentleness, all that goodness, and we had a problem. I was unable to tell Mindy what it was. I didn’t know how to tell her she had a big cunt. Maybe nobody had ever told her.
“It will be better when I’m not drinking so much,” I told her.
“Please don’t worry, Hank.”
“O.K.”
We went to sleep or we pretended to go to sleep. Finally I did….
28
Mindy stayed about a week. I introduced her to my friends. We went places. But nothing was resolved. I couldn’t climax. She didn’t seem to mind. It was strange.
Around 10:45 PM one evening Mindy was drinking in the front room and reading a magazine. I was lying on the bed in just my shorts, drunk, smoking, a drink on the chair. I was staring at the blue ceiling, not feeling or thinking about anything.
There was a knock on the front door.
Mindy said, “Should I get it?”
“Sure,” I said, “go ahead.”
I heard Mindy open the door. Then I heard Lydia’s voice.
“I just came over to check out my competition.”
Oh, I thought, this is nice. I’ll get up and pour them both a drink, we’ll all drink together and talk. I like my women to understand each other.
Then I heard Lydia say: “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?”
Then I heard Mindy scream. And Lydia screamed. I heard scuffling, grunts, bodies flying. Furniture was upset. Mindy screamed again—the scream of one being attacked. Lydia screamed—the tigress at the kill. I leaped out of bed. I was going to separate them. I ran into the front room in my shorts. It was a hair-pulling, spitting, scratching, mad scene. I ran over to pull them apart. I stumbled over one of my shoes on the rug, fell heavily. Mindy ran out the door with Lydia right behind. They ran down the walk toward the street. I heard another scream.
Several minutes passed. I got up and closed the door. Evidently Mindy had gotten away because suddenly Lydia walked in. She sat down in a chair near the door. She looked at me.
“I’m sorry. I’ve pissed myself.”
It was true. There was a dark stain in her crotch and one pant leg was soaked.
“It’s all right,” I said.
I poured Lydia a drink and she sat there holding it in her hand. I couldn’t hold my drink in my hand. No one spoke. A short time later there was a knock on the door. I got up in my shorts and opened it. My huge, white, flabby belly hung out over the top of the shorts. Two policemen stood at the door.
“Hello,” I said.
“We’re answering a disturbance of the peace call.”
“Just a little family argument,” I said.
“We’ve got some details,” said the cop standing closest to me. “There are two women.”
“There usually are,” I said.
“All right,” said the first cop. “I just want to ask you one question.”
“O.K.”
“Which